When the clock strikes twelve."
by Maddykins
Summary: Young Miguel's world is drastically changed forever.


"When the Clock Struck Twelve "  
  
  
By Maura "Maddy" Nevel  
Disclaimer: Miguel and Tulio belong to Dreamworks pictures "Road to El Dorado"  
A thank you goes out to my friend Blaze who is the most awesome translator device out there!!!  
  
It was late, the clock down in the master hallway had struck eleven, but the strokes of the clock meant nothing to Miguel, for he couldn't count past uno. For no one had spent much time teaching him to count. In fact, it had been a while since anyone had spent much time with him at all!   
Rolling over, he scratched his bare chest, and uncomfortably picked little pieces of straw bits of it. It was hot and humid in Spain that night, and it had made him sweat something horrible.   
When ever he moved to try to make less of the straw stick to his paled skin, the heat of summer just made more stick to him, it was so bad at the moment that there was no way he could keep cool. The straw didn't help, it only made his skin itch and turn a pinkish-red color from irritation and from the constant movement of his nails against his skin. He frowned; his jealously was starting to grow towards the Martinez family.   
  
"I bet they don't even know what a flea is!" He said out loud.  
  
Giving a sigh of tiredness he rolled over onto his side to whine to his father that he itched and it was only then that he noticed he was alone again in the small bed he shared with his father in the servants corridors of the Martinez mansion. Not surprised he laid back, this wasn't the first night Miguel had been left alone in the darkened room to late hours of the night or even early hours of the morning. In fact he was growing quite used to being alone and staring quietly up at the ceiling of the room to think by him self. His father had instructed him not to move even if the house was burning down and the cook was screaming because his pet pig had rolled over and died from the heat.   
Miguel had started to giggle at the thought of that happening to that mean old cook who had given him orders every day and a whack over the head every night. Suddenly, there was a loud WACK as the door swung open, and a dark shadow stood, from where Miguel lay he couldn't see any more, the candle light behind this new figure was way to bright. Scared at first Miguel jumped, and scrambled to grab the thin blanket that laid on the end of the bed for protection. Just opening a space wide enough so he could peek out. Though he then realized after a moment that it hadn't came after him yet. Realizing then wasn't a scary thing at all in fact it resembled himself in the lighted doorway. His eyes adjusted slowly to the new light and saw a rugged looking man, who was maybe in his earlier years of age. He was muscled, not to mention twice to three times Miguel's own height.  
  
"Padre!!" He said quite relieved.  
  
  
  
  
  
As if he was not heard, his father walked into the room, he didn't even glance towards Miguel as he closed the door and walked to the shelves on the far wall of the small room. He was busy grabbing the few possessions they had off the shelves though suddenly when his one arm was full as about as much as he could hold, he just seemed to notice his son was presents. Giving a weak smile he stopping just long enough from the shelf to the straw bed on the floor, to kneel and gently stroke Miguel's small smooth face with his forefinger with one hand that wasn't full. It was then that he gave him one of his award winning smiles, which Miguel returned. Miguel had beamed for days at the fact that all the other workers had told him that he had indeed inherited from his father, and his good looks from his mother. (May she rest in peace.) Though the moment wasn't a long one, his father turned his back towards Miguel again and started filling his arms with a few more things. He even took the vase that had been his mother's favorite and close to only possession. His arms were totally full now; it was then that he reached in his pocket and grabbed the cloth bag that was only used for one thing that Miguel knew of.  
Miguel watched him more curiously now, more worried. His smile faded when he saw his father grab his knife from the shelf and stick it into his pocket. Climbing out of the thin blanket to the edge of the hay. He saw something-silver gleam in the light of the moon that shinned through the window. Speaking up bravely he asked.  
  
"Padre? Where you going? Isn't that the Martinez silver plate? " Miguel questioning his father.   
  
"Shh boy! You ask to many questions for your own good! He answered shoving it in the bag and spinning around. You want to wake up the whole house?! 'eh?! Now be a good boy and lie back down and go to sleep."  
Miguel frowned, for his father never talked to him in such a tone before and he didn't like it.   
  
"But Padre" Miguel started to whine and protest.  
His whines was cut short, and turned into a surprised sound, as his father whisked around and grabbed Miguel holding him up high enough in the air that his feet could not touch the floor. Miguel taken totally by surprise could only make a weak gasp as he was grasped, and attempting to keep breathing he scratched at his fathers hand, he couldn't scream for help. He was now completely under his fathers mercy.  
  
"Now you listen here, I have been a hard worker for this family for many years, they owe it to me, you hear me? He growled lowly, holding him up. His eyes had turned hateful and hard. They owe it to me, and I will not have you spoil it all! I loved your mama, and when she died" he paused before adding one of the things that had sadden them and Miguel most.   
"The baby "   
Miguel winced, he knew how much that had meant to his father. Looking to see what his father was doing he noticed that the man's eyes had softened, and filled with tears.   
Looking to his son, and with the terror he saw in the child's eyes, softened his touch, setting Miguel down on the bed turning to the window ashamed at himself, the moon was rising slowly over the roof and the small room became bathed in darkness.   
"Well a piece of me died to" He said quietly as he looked out the window, out onto the fields   
  
  
  
  
Miguel was unable to speak, he was lying on the bed coughing, holding onto the hay in his sweaty palms with dear life, taking in deep breaths of air. His father turned back to Miguel.   
  
  
  
  
"Miguel I need to leave, I can't stay you understand don't you?" His eyes filled with sorrow faced his only son." Miguel innocent face turned to his father, the young features had grown dull and pale, terrified and shaken, and he was unable to speak. This sudden gesture his father had done, shook him, and he looked baffled at his father for an answer. Though he would not get one he was afraid to go against his father's word for what he had just done was a first, his father had never laid a hand on him that he knew of. He nodded half heartily, not quite with the realization that his father had meant forever.  
  
"Good, Good"   
His father nodded, opening his mouth to say one more thing but then closed it. Taking and putting on his hat, he headed towards the door. As he opened it he seemed to remember something and stop, closing it just as he opened it, taking a look back at his wide-eyed son and perhaps with some compassion, he walked back to the end of the bed sitting down.  
"Now I almost forgot, I got something for you" His father started, pausing only for a moment to regain his thoughts.   
"For me Padre?" He asked quietly, shyly.  
"Yes for you, now I hear from the cook that you have been working very hard on your mandolin playing...perhaps even when you shouldn't be." He added raising his brow at his young and only son.   
"Uh huh, I have padre" He answered as he gave a weak nod, cocking his head  
To the side unsure where this was going, he looked much like a curious puppy, unsure if he was in trouble for his lack of helping the mean old cook.  
"Good, Good, I got something for you then"  
Getting up he walked over to the nearby shelves. Reaching up to the top shelf (way up high that only his father could reach.) He took something into his hands, and came back to the bed sitting down.  
"I want you to have this..."   
Unwrapping the cloth he held it in the moonlight, inside was a gorgeously carved and polished mandolin, everything on it was perfect, all the way down to the strings. He couldn't breath at first stretching his fingers out just to touch it fragile, as if afraid that it would break on his touch.  
"Oh Padre! Its Gorgeous!"   
He managed to breathe out. His papa could only smile.   
"Its yours...I made it for you my son"   
Smiling he put it in his sons arms. It was almost too much for Miguel...smiling he ran his finger over the strings listening to the beautiful sound it made. Putting it down slowly he looked to his papa, with out warning he jumped into his fathers arms and threw his arms around him.  
"Oh thank you padre! It's the best!"  
  
Burying his face in his father's shirt taking in the smells. His father taken slightly by surprised chuckled after a moment, and gave him a fierce hug. After a moment his chuckle stopped, but he continued to rock Miguel in his arms. Pushing him back arm length for a moment he studied his son.  
"What is it padre?"   
Miguel frowned. Shaking his head his father pulled him back giving him one last hug before setting him down on the bed.  
"Nada son, nada."   
Ruffling his hair as he stood up, watched his son take the mandolin into his arms again, cradling it like a baby as he repeated over and over.  
"Thank you Padre, Thank you!"   
Smiling his father picked up the bag he had stuffed everything in, he walked backwards towards the door, hoping to go unnoticed by his son. Apparently it was not fast enough.  
"Padre? Where are you going?" Miguel looked up innocently.  
"Oh...well I'm going...where am I going?" His father stuttered as he tried to think of something to tell his son. Miguel frowned.   
"Your going with that girl, aren't you?"  
"Girl? What Girl?"   
He said quite shocked, and amused as well of his son's knowledge.  
"The girl I saw you with, yesterday under the big tree in the yard"   
He said as he kneeled on the bed holding the thing to his chest.  
"Ooh that girl, eh, well I.."   
He said trying to act normal and cover it up at the same time. Finally discovering that he could not, he let his hands drop to his sides, sighing he nodded.  
"Alright you caught me, yes, I'm going with that girl"   
"Where?"   
Miguel asked still cradling the mandolin.  
"Away"  
"When will you be back?"   
Miguel asked eagerly. Unable to face his son's face he answered quickly.  
"Soon, now get into bed and stop asking questions! Lie down"   
Miguel obeyed quickly and with out word.  
"Uh Uh Uh! Give me the mandolin"  
He said in a scolding tone as he took it from Miguel.  
"You may take it and play with it in the morning after your chores, but now you need sleep." Miguel frowned but once again did not go against his fathers word, he knew better, pouting he watched him place it on the table near the bed.  
"That's a good boy." Sitting down on the bed next to Miguel.  
"Now you be a good boy for everyone while I am away, I don't want to hear any trouble that you've been up to when I get back!"  
"Yes Padre."  
"Alright now" Standing he picked up the bag once more and this time got to the door before stopping as he opened it letting the light back in, hurting Miguel's eyes.  
  
"Miguel, Miguel, te quiero con todo mi corazon, Si me recuerdes siempre, yo tambien voy a recorder... Eres un hombre bien, siempre andas asi"   
  
(Miguel, I love you with all my heart,. if you remember me always, I will remember you also You are a good boy, stay like that.)  
  
Filled with pride at his father's words he nodded tearfully.   
  
"Ningún padre, no me olvidaré"   
  
(No father, I won't forget)  
  
His father giving him one more smile nodded and took one more look at him as if unsure that he wanted to leave, but only nodded and closed the door swiftly after him.  
Miguel listened to his footsteps grow farther and farther down the hall before He scrambled out of the bed hay stuck to his skin again. Creeping to the window he stood on his tiptoes peeking just over the top of the sill just soon enough to see his father walk out of the house and start walking, though stopping to take one more glance to the window Miguel was looking out of. It was to dark for him to see Miguel, but Miguel saw him.  
  
At first he looked distressed and Miguel hoped more then anything he would turn and come back to bed. Though he didn't, adjusting the bag on his shoulder he walked farther meeting up with another figure further down the huge yard. Miguel saw him take her into his arms and hold her, kiss and after a moment setting her down taking her hand. At that moment, Miguel knew his father was not coming back. Unable to watch any more Miguel slowly walked to the table near his bed and took the carved Mandolin from it so careful not to scratch it and put it back on the bed. He then climbed up next to it and back to where he was supost to be fast asleep long before now. Feeling around the bed and unable to find what he was looking for crawled down onto the floor where his blanket had fallen, he found it. The "It" was a filthy white bunny, made out of real rabbit hair. Father had shot the rabbit and his mother, sewn it together with a bit of string. It was the favorite of all the children in the house. It had been made filthy with love. Miguel's favorite thing, since his dear mother had given it to him before she passed away.   
Curling into a tight ball under the covers he didn't cry, he refused to. He wanted to be brave; he had to show his father how brave he really was. With one arm over his Mandolin and the rabbit tucked tightly underneath the other.   
"I-its ok Miguel" He said softly to himself, as if trying to get himself to believe it.  
"You've been alone before"  
"Y-you've" A tear slipped down his cheek he pushed it away.  
"Quit it Miguel! You're such a baby! He'll be back!"  
Though in his heart he didn't believe it, closing his eyes the tears flowed a little faster but he didn't make a sound he refused to. Sobbing quietly he hugged the bunny closer, and the Mandolin under the other. He was alone and he knew it, and he had not yet hit his seventh year of life and he had become an orphan, he had hit the truth, and hit it hard, his salty tears fell faster and his sobs hardly unbearable. He could not calm himself down, for he, cried himself to sleep, just as he was totally out, the clocked struck twelve. The bells each taking a turn to ring loudly and only after all twelve rung it turned to totally silence in the house. The young boy slept, in a lonely slumber of life.  
  
  
  
---La Acabados-- 


End file.
